Fortune

by Craig W. Turner

  “I’m thinking about the coordinates,” she said, not looking back. “I want to write them down in another place than just your arm. Just in case.”

  “What about your photographic memory?”

  “I’m just thinking – when we get there, we’ll have another person in the mix. If something goes wrong, one of the three of us has to get back to the present to make sure any of us have a chance to get back. That make sense?”

  “Well, you can’t just walk into a convenience store and buy a Rollerball.” He was getting defensive, and irrationally so. He didn’t like that she was changing the parameters.

  Now she looked back at him and tried to lighten things with a grin, at least attempting to win him back to her way of thinking. “No kidding. Thomas Meeks should have something we can borrow to write with. Let’s head back.”

  Without a word, Jeff turned and walked back in the direction from which they’d just come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  They walked in silence most of the way back to the records shop, Jeff battling with the reality that Erica was suddenly putting herself in control. There was a comfort zone in which he liked to work – one that included Emeka and Abby within his reach. He didn’t like the unpredictability of what Erica was proposing. Abby’s ability to calculate and Emeka’s ability to act instantly and strategically were important to the success of everything they’d done so far. While there was nothing in her revised plan that couldn’t be justified, he didn’t have faith that he could do what she wanted him to do. On the other hand, if he didn’t go along with her, there was no guarantee she’d help him get Dexter.

  When they were within a block of Meeks’ shop, he finally spoke. “So, what is it you want me to do? I have to punch one of the soldiers? Like in the face?”

  “We’ll have to evaluate the situation when we get there to some degree,” she said. “But we should prepare for at least one soldier to be holding Dexter.”

  “Well, let’s hope it’s one. Two would be a problem.”

  “Bottom line is, though, if you want to get your friend back, we’ll have to figure out a way to deal with however many are there.”

  “But Emeka could take apart two 18th century soldiers in no time.”

  “Jeff, I guarantee you that if we try to get more than the three of us together to get back to the present, it won’t work. I guarantee it. There are way too many parts in motion. It’s going to be fast and hectic. You punch the guy. He lets go of Dexter. We grab hands. I push the button.”

  “Honestly, Erica, I’m not much of a fighter. I don’t know that I can hit someone hard enough to make them let go of him.”

  She sighed. “You want me to hit him and you push the button?”

  “Well, now that you’ve challenged my masculinity, no. Maybe I’ll find a two-by-four or something.” He couldn’t visualize himself in the situation. It was too far removed from his normal life.

  “Whatever you need to do. You just need to make sure that as soon as that soldier steps out the front door with Dexter in tow, you bash him upside the head and we’re out of there.” They reached the front of the shop and stopped. “Okay – don’t ask him for a pen or pencil. Just ask him for something to write with.”

  “Why don’t you just ask?” She looked at him like he was crazy, which made him realize that it was 1830 and Erica shouldn’t be asking for anything from a man. “Gotcha,” he said and led the way inside.

  Meeks rose from his stool. “Back so soon?”

  “I was wondering if I might borrow something to write with,” Jeff asked as authentically as he could. It was an effort, since he’d just been talking with Erica in 21st-century-speak.

  Meeks slipped an inkwell and pen up onto the counter and gave Jeff a piece of parchment paper. Fortunately, he then turned his back, because Jeff had no idea how to use the implements and looked helplessly over at Erica for a demonstration. She mimed dipping the pen into the ink, finishing just in time for Meeks to turn back around.

  Jeff dipped as instructed, then pulled up his sleeve. When he saw Meeks looking his way, his slid it back down his arm.

  Erica noticed his hesitation and sidled down the counter toward Meeks. “This is a wonderful facility,” she said. “How long has it been here?”

  Meeks turned his attention away from Jeff to answer her. When he did, Jeff pulled his sleeve back up and began to copy the numbers, not paying attention to their conversation. First he copied the coordinates for 1770, then switched arms and wrote down the coordinates to get them back to their present time. He dipped the pen into the ink several times and wished for his smartphone. As elegant as he felt, he couldn’t imagine writing like this for very long.

  When he finished, he slid the instruments back to Meeks as Erica wrapped up their conversation, thanked him, and tucked the paper into his front pocket. They exited the building and were once again outside and ready for their next move.

  “Where did you ‘land’ when you went back to 1770 the first time?”

  “In a farmer’s field about five miles out of town.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s too far. We need to be a little more precise. Let me think about where we are right now.” She paced for about thirty seconds trying to get her bearings. “I focused mainly on getting here, thinking that you’d gotten a little closer.”

  “You could’ve asked while you were planning all of this,” Jeff said, thinking she’d intended to do it this way – keep him clueless until he was already in the thick of it. He was irritated, but given the nature of their relationship to date, he couldn’t say that he totally blamed her.

  “Alright,” she said, “we have two options. There’s a park about six blocks from here that I believe was an open space during the Colonial times. That’s probably better since there won’t be many people around, however, we’ll have a longer walk to Garvey’s house – I’d say probably a little over a mile. While we’re dressed in old-time clothes, there’s 60 years difference between now and then, so we could attract some attention. Think of walking around in our time in clothes from the ‘50s or ‘60s. Probably not enough to cause a stir, but the dress code is definitely different.”

  “And the other option?”

  “There’s a courtyard about a block from Garvey’s house. Problem is that it may have some people in it in the morning, which is when we need to get there. It’s risky, but it’s close.”

  “Do you have a preference?”

  “The safer of the two is option number one.”

  “You’d know better than I would.” This is where he would normally lean on Dexter. And while he and Erica seemed to be having trust issues, there was no other choice than to follow her lead. “This is one of those things Dexter always took the lead on. This is why I came to you for help. I’m open to whatever you think is best.”

  “Did you notice anything different in there?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He shook his head.

  “The lantern,” she said. “He moved it onto the other side of the counter.”

  “Honestly?” A smile escaped his lips. She would have to admit there was something satisfying about it.

  Nope. “I don’t know why you’re smiling, Jeff. This is a dangerous game you play. It is so easy to change things.”

  “Well, we’ll have to be more careful.” He caught and corrected himself for her benefit. “Correction – I’ll have to be more careful.” Maybe she’d appreciate it later.

  “Yes, you will. Let’s go.”

  As they walked, Jeff realized that time travel had now become so customary for him that he was far more nervous about punching someone than he was about making the leap back to Colonial America. Had they been in their present time, he never would’ve agreed to taking on the mission without his teammates, but his argument – that too many cooks wouldn’t spoil the broth – was hollow because the broth had already been spilled once. He was just going to have to come through.

  He’d never actually b
een in a fight – it just wasn’t something that nerds did. One time in sophomore year he’d shoved a kid who’d elbowed him during a basketball game in third period gym, but after they called each other jerks it was over. He’d never punched anything that was alive, and never hurt anything bigger than a spider. Now, in order to save his friend, he was going to have to take out a trained British soldier using only his bare knuckles and the element of surprise as weapons. If he were hiring for this job, he would not have been considering himself.

  “I guess if it doesn’t work, we’ll all get arrested and we can work out our strategy from in prison,” he said. “At least we’ll all have the coordinates.”

  “Yeah, and yet that doesn’t sound like the best idea. Don’t worry. This’ll work.”

  “Glad you believe it.” He was. He needed a boost.

  “Jeff, these people are going to hang your best friend in the world,” she said. “I’m sure you can muster the courage to slug someone who’s looking to do that.”

  “That’s a good way to put it.”

  “Not to mention that horrible Stamp Act.”

  They walked a moment in silence before he looked over at her. She had a grin on her face, so he couldn’t help himself but laugh. “The Stamp Act? Nice motivation, there.”

  “Those bastards.”

  Her attempt at humor made Jeff realize that he honestly didn’t know too much about this woman into whose hands he was putting his life. Not only that, he didn’t know if her squeezing his arm at Meeks’ shop was supposed to be some kind of message. Sure, they were in this together, but was that enough to create the kind of camaraderie that he had with Emeka, Abby and Dexter – the kind of camaraderie that he believed was key to success? Was the arm squeeze a sign of “team,” or was it something else? Was it something more? The last thing he needed now was distractions. But, still... Here they did have some time together, so he decided he’d at least try to create some conversation while they walked. Build a bridge.

  “So how much work was it to get that sign put up at the Wilton site?”

  She laughed. “Really? Small talk?”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head, her eyes scanning the environment as they walked. “It took a long time. About a decade.”

  “You know it wasn’t there when we left, and it was there when we got back. Blew our minds.”

  “I’ll bet. Changing history probably would. Probably should.” She walked in silence for a moment, then motioned Jeff to turn right onto another block. The streets continued to become more crowded as they got closer to the center of the city. “I started pushing for it as an undergrad. Using Wilton’s diary, I mapped exactly where I thought the robbery had taken place.”

  “Well, you nailed it. That sign is literally five feet from where it happened. What took so long?”

  “Just regulations,” she said. “Getting something onto the historic register is an uphill climb. Especially when it’s not related to a war. I’ve worked on one of those, too – getting historic designation for the birth home of Major General Morris Fitzpatrick, who fought with the 10th Cavalry in the Spanish-American War and was born in Palo Alto. I did that while I was in college. It was much easier. But that experience eventually helped me learn how to get through the Sacramento red tape to get the Wilton site done.”

  “What was your impetus for the General’s home? I mean – I know why you’re interested in the Wilton robbery. Why the first one?”

  “The state was going to tear it down to build student housing. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m a believer in history being preserved.”

  Jeff laughed. “Wow. I can imagine they loved you.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t very popular among the elected officials, but the students loved me taking a stand. At one point, we had I think 350 students standing in front of the house – and this was to stop housing for themselves. Fighting a fight like that is something I believe that every aspiring historian should have to go through.”

  “So what eventually put the Wilton site over the top?”

  “Because my mapping was really only estimated, there was pushback over the exact site. They didn’t want to do anything unless they were certain it was accurate. And, of course, all we had was the diary. In the end, it came down to relationships. I eventually became well-known enough in the history community that I could lean on certain connections I had, the strongest being Kevin Pierce, who you met, from the Smithsonian. He was a huge help in making it happen.” She smiled. “A decade of hard work for a sign. But it’s done, right?”

  “It sure is.” Finally, after seeing her open up, Jeff found himself liking the way she talked. Her passion. Her matter-of-factness that things should be a certain way. He considered how she was different from him – she was idealistic, he was practical. She went after what she thought she could accomplish, he was consistently focused on the logical next step. Knowing that, it was easy to understand why she believed he had it in him to punch out a Red Coat when he thought a more tactical plan would be appropriate.

  “Here’s the park,” she said as the buildings opened into a grassy, treed area. “Yeah, this should work. Most of these buildings weren’t here sixty years ago.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Still, we’ll tuck ourselves out of sight as best as possible,” she said, and started across the grass. They had to high-step over the grass, which was untouched and about six inches tall, across the field.

  Jeff followed her to a small hill in the center of the park that provided some cover. Three people were still visible, but it looked like it was the best they could do.

  She sat down in the grass and he sat next to her. “I’m sure you’ve thought about the fact that we’re going to break some rules here,” she said, holding her hand out for the time device. “You probably didn’t want to mention it to me because I like things to be a certain way.”

  He pulled the device from his pocket and handed it to her. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

  She took it from him and began to run her fingers over the buttons. “If this works, we’re going to disappear in front of British soldiers, and we’re going to reappear in the middle of the sidewalk in modern-day Philadelphia.”

  “These coordinates land us in the middle of the night.”

  “Yes, but that’s doesn’t necessarily mean there won’t be anyone there.”

  Jeff nodded. “I actually hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. Good thing is, if anyone’s there I can just punch them out, too.”

  Erica laughed. “Oh no, I’ve created a monster.”

  “Let’s get the first one out of the way before I start making challenges.”

  “All set,” she said, handing it back to him.

  “You double checked it?”

  “Three times.”

  He didn’t know how, but he believed her. “You ready for this?”

  “More than you are,” she said with a grin.

  “Here goes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  August 11, 1770

  Erica blinked, and half of the buildings surrounding them had vanished.

  In all, their new surroundings didn’t look much different. There were holes in the landscape where houses and shops had been only a moment before, though two homes were in the midst of construction. Otherwise, things felt much the same.

  She looked at Jeff, sitting in the same position he’d been in sixty years in the future. “We’re here?”

  “I can only assume so. My phone doesn’t automatically change the date.”

  “Judging by the scenery, we’re well on our way, at least.”

  Taking a 360 degree look, she was relieved to see that no one would’ve noticed their arrival. While success would mean a definitive impact on history, she thought they should do whatever they could to minimize their presence. She stood, motioning to the device as Jeff programmed the device for their return to the present and stored it in his
pocket. “Maybe for version two-point-oh of that device you can put a little LED screen that can tell you where you are.”

  “I wonder if that’s possible,” he said, considering it. “You’d have to have the computer interpret the coordinates, but then that would just be manipulation of the numbers. There’s no way-”

  “Jeff, it was a joke.”

  “Okay. Which way do we go?”

  “This way,” she said, pointing. They started walking toward the closer side of the park, which was now less a park than just an unkempt grassy area. They didn’t see a person until they were among the buildings. And when they did, she didn’t notice any strange looks even though their attire was slightly off. Of course, separating herself from the situation and seeing it objectively, she realized that people probably didn’t care; clothing was, at the moment, likely far more important to she and Jeff than anyone else remotely nearby. “If we calculated correctly, we have about an hour before you guys show up at Garvey’s house to rob him.”

  “Okay,” Jeff said as they walked.

  “For obvious reasons, we should try not to run into the other you.”

  He laughed. “That’s crazy – there are two of me here now. But yes, I agree with you.”

  After a couple blocks walking in silence, the only sound their footsteps on the rocky ground, Erica said, “Alright, when we walked last time I told you about me. Now it’s your turn.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start with the obvious question. How – or better yet, why – did you figure out how to go back in time?”

  “Well, those questions have diverging answers,” he said. “The why is short, though, so I’ll start there. ‘Why’ was absolutely by mistake. I never set out to do time travel. In fact, it was so foreign a concept that it hadn’t even crossed my mind. In general, it doesn’t cross many scientists’ minds after they take their last physics class. I was working on something completely different when I stumbled on it.”